The Past Doesn't Always Haunt You
by apaperand-pen
Summary: What happens when you cross a demon and an angel? A half-breed who has unimaginable powers. Dean and Sam get a blast from the past when Gemma O'Neil shows up on their hotel doorstep.  chapt 1-9 past, 10 and on present
1. Chapter 1

_Together Again_

I needed Dean's blood.  
I needed it soon. I needed it as soon as possible. I needed it right then, right there.  
Preferably before I blew up, killing everyone in a ten mile radius.

I ran my hands under the tap. The hotel had crappy water pressure, but it got the job done...sort of.

The cut I'd pressed a knife into over and over again throbbed under the water, a fresh lining of skin slowly forming against the latest gash.

My hands were covered in blood. My own blood, but blood nonetheless. A pile of Dean's clothes sat on one side of the counter, Sam's on the other. I dried my hands on the red towel hanging across from the toilet and picked up a pair of dark jeans from Dean's pile. I dug in the pockets, procuring the silver ring I knew to be there.

I held the thin band between my fingers, relishing the power that radiated from it. I held it in my thumb and index finger and watched it twinkle in the dim light of the bathroom. Something I hadn't expected was engraved sloppily into the inside of the ring.

My name.

_Gemma_.

I dropped the ring like it was on fire and it rolled around the sink, too big to fit down the drain. I stared down at the circle of metal and squished my eyebrows together.

Two more bands appeared in the sink and I smirked.

Being a crazy half-breed had its perks.

I slipped one of the duplicates onto the middle finger of my right hand and stuffed the original half-heartedly into Dean's pocket.

A gun cocked and the cold, metal barrel pressed into the back of my neck.

"If you're looking to kill me, you better aim a little higher," I said quietly, "_Sammy Winchester_."

"I'm looking forward to a slow, painful death for you, bitch," he sneered, his words punctuated and painfully serious.

I turned, still looking down. Without flicking my eyes upwards, I grabbed the gun now poised over the hollow of my throat and forced it upwards. The barrel rested between my eyebrows and I sighed.

My eyes travelled up; along Sam's long legs, his broad chest with a black and blue plaid shirt stretched tightly across it, and finally to his face. His eyes were hard chunks of blue-green ice, his eyebrows knitted together above them.

"You got taller, Sammy."

And with three little words and a childhood nickname, Sam's entire face softened and his hands shook as he lowered his gun.

"Gemma?" he asked, almost like he didn't believe it was me. He reached around me as I nodded solemnly. His gun clanked onto the counter and as he leaned back, the gun in my back pocket appeared in his hand. Sam's fingers twisted around the trigger and I moaned.

"It really is me, Sam," I breathed, brushing a strand of dyed-black cherry hair out of my face.

"If it's you, then tell me something only you and I would know."

I sighed again, leaning back against the sink and crossing my arms over my chest.

"I was on the road, with you, your brother, Dean, and your dad for almost two months when I was sixteen, same age as Dean. Your dad, John, he taught me how to shoot my first gun."

"You could be a demon; you could've been watching Gemma when she was with us. You could be a shape shifter."

"Sure, I could, but I wouldn't know how I got these," I replied, tugging my grey tank top up, revealing the claw marks scarred into the skin of my stomach. Sam flinched and chewed his lip as I continued.

"We got into a mess with a hellhound, just me and your dad. The night before we went on the hunt, I had been...doing stuff with Dean... We got into a fight and I told him I was going to leave, but I didn't tell you that. And the next day, I went on my 'final' hunt with John. We hadn't expected a hellhound and I got messed up pretty bad. John took me to the hospital and they thought I wouldn't make it. But somehow, the next morning all I had was scars. An overnight miracle, they called me. The next day, the three of you were gone and I stayed with Bobby for a couple days; your dad gave me directions and a couple hundred. I haven't seen anyone since."

"It is you," Sam said, still staring at me.

"Of course it's me, Sam."

Next thing I knew, I was wrapped in Sam's arms, being crushed against his chest. His blood beat in my ears, but something wasn't right. I pulled back and stared at him. There was _something_ in his eyes. It clicked, my half-breed senses tingling like I was Spiderman.

"Not demon blood, Sam," I whispered, but he let go of me so quickly I stumbled backwards, tossed my gun to me and walked out of the bathroom.

"You were always...different, Sammy," I said, following him into the main part of the room. The sheets were rumpled and the Winchester's trademark duffle bag sat in the middle of the orange carpet. I hadn't really noticed the little details when I exploded through the door, instantly rummaging through the boys' clothes for a pocket knife (which now sat covered in my blood on the bathroom counter) and ran into the bathroom.

"I can't stop thinking about it, Gemma. It's the only thing I can think about." His voice was full of tears and he sniffed, dropping down onto one of the beds. The weird yellow and blue pattern on the sheets made my head hurt. I leaned against the cabinet that held the television, looking at Sam.

"Does Dean know?" I asked; my voice surprisingly calm and strangely collected.

"No, how the hell am I supposed to tell him?"

I nodded, but at his mention of the h-word, banged my head softly against the wall. My eyes slipped shut and pain flashed through my entire body. My memory of hell was a burden I hated to bear, but one I couldn't seem to rid myself of.

At that moment, my eyes flashed open and Dean burst through the hotel door, a gun in hand. I stepped around the cabinet so he could see me. His green eyes locked on my grey and his gun fell clattering to the floor.

"No..." was all he said. Pain radiated through my chest. "You're dead."

"Obviously I'm not, Dean," I snarled, a burning sensation filling my head as I said his name. "You of all people should know."

"I should...? _No_. You're in hell. I saw you." Sam jumped to his feet at his brother's words and I raked a hand through my hair.

"You're in hell?" Sam whispered.

"_Was_," I spat back at him, running my finger around the ring on my hand.

"She's supposed to still be there," Dean said, shrugging out of his coat. "You can leave. _Now_."

"Wait. How do you know that, Dean?" Sam asked with an argumentative tone to his voice. He knocked Dean's shoulder and Dean scowled.

"Because, I-"

"He tortured my soul," I said simply. Sam looked as though I'd just shot him. He grabbed Dean by the collar and slammed him against the wall. I rolled my eyes. I'd always been like an older sister to Sam; giving him tips on how to impress girls, helping him act a little 'cooler'. He'd always idolized Dean, but I guess, to him, I was the female version of his brother.

"How could you?" he spat, slamming Dean against the wall again. "You said you _loved_ her!"

"I can hear you!" I yelled, stepping between the two of them and forcing Sam to let go of Dean. My skin touched Dean's and I tried not to cry out in pain.

"I didn't have a choice, Sam!" Dean yelled, trying to step around me. "Alastair told me to, so I did!"

"And since when do you do what a demon tells you, Dean? Since when do you turn on the girl who might as well be family?" Sam yelled back, trying to step around me like Dean had.

"Stop it!" I screamed and they both stared at me. "Both of you! Quit it! I need your help."

Sam stepped back and Dean brushed past me. Reaching my breaking point, I yelled at him.

"Stop touching me!" I screeched, squeezing my eyes shut. "You know what you did! You remember every goddamn second of it, Dean! You know that touching a soul you've tortured puts them in physical pain! You know that!"

"I don't remember any of it, Gemma!" he yelled, stepping towards me, throwing his arms out to the sides. "I don't remember torturing you, Gemma, okay? I don't! All I remember was that you were the first one and Alastair told me to."

"Well, I wasn't your only first now, was I, Dean?"

I struck a nerve and he turned; his eyes green flames.

"You don't talk about that in front of Sam, Gemma!" he yelled, but I could see it in his eyes. He remembered that night. The night before the hellhound attack. The night when we were sixteen and 'in love'. The night when he told me he loved me.


	2. Chapter 2

_Help Wanted_

Sam rubbed my shoulder in sympathy. I didn't want his sympathy. I didn't need his sympathy. I needed Dean's blood. I could feel the demonic rage building up inside of me, like a thunder clouds just gathering over a crashing sea. My emotions were the roaring waves.

I was sitting on the bed next to Sam. His arm was draped over my shoulder and I leaned into him, tears falling down my cheeks like waterfalls.

Dean was in the bathroom, the door closed and the water running.

"He'll come around, Gem. Don't worry about it. He's been like this ever since he..." Sam's face fell and I stood up, my stiletto boots squishing into the carpeted floor.

"Since he came back from hell?" I asked, picking my leather jacket up off the floor. Sam nodded; his puppy-dog eyes boring into mine. I knew what he was going to ask before the words were out of his mouth.

"Why were you down there, Gem?" he asked quietly, clasping his hands in front of himself.

"I found out things I wasn't supposed to," I replied, pulling my leather jacket on. "I don't want you two to get hurt, Sammy. I'll leave."

"Since when do you listen to Dean?" Sam said, getting up off the bed and blocking the door.

"Since he's right and I need to get out of here before I blow up and kill everyone in a ten mile radius."

"If Dean's right, then why are you here? I know you, Gemma. You wouldn't be here unless you were in trouble. Dad hurt you, taking us away like that, and you're still hurt."

The truth of his words stung, but I crossed my arms over my chest, waiting for Sam to process the last part of my sentence. He stared back at me and then his eyebrows shot into his hairline. I laughed.

"What the hell do you mean _blow up_, Gemma?" he yelled, walking towards me. I walked in the opposite direction and dropped into a chair next to the television.

"You remember how you found me, Sam?"

"You were the daughter of one of Dad's old hunting buddies. Your dad saved my dad's ass a few hundred times and then there was some demon or something. Your mom and dad didn't make it and so you were just going to stay with us until you found your footing. You were only supposed to stay a few days, but days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months and so you stayed until-"

"Until the night Dean told me he loved and I told him I loved him."

"You did?"

"Yeah."

"Well, then why'd you go?"

"I loved your brother, Sam. I still do. And you will always be the little brother I never had. But after he told me he loved me, I guess I was in shock. Dean's so anti-love all the time and I just wanted to...save myself...from getting my heart broken. So I hunted one last time and then left, to find my own way."

"Hm. You never should've left, Gem. He wasn't the same without you."

I chewed on my lip and nodded, Sam's words stinging at my skin.

"You know that demon, Crowley, who set that hell hound on us?"

"Yeah, what about him?"

"Well, turns out that he wasn't actually trying to kill us. He was trying to help us. There was another demon there that night, and he set the hellhound on us. Crowley just set his own hound to take on the other one, but then the other one disappeared so Crowley's hound came after me."

Sam rubbed his face with his hands and I tapped my food on the carpet.

"Alright, well why do you need help, Gemma? What's going on?"

"Crowley told me something that night. Before the hound attacked. Said some things to me and your dad that kind of screwed things over. What he told us was the reason why your dad left me after I 'recovered'. Why he took and Dean away."

"And what was that? Quit beating around the bush, Gemma. Just _tell me_," Sam said, pulling a beer out of the mini fridge near the bed and twisting the cap off, tossing the circle of metal aside.

"That he was my father."

I shifted in the chair and Sam choked in his beer.

"You're a _demon_?" he cried in disbelief. "You _lied_ to me? To _Dean_?" I shook my head.

"Not full-blood, just half."

"And the other half? Human?"

"Nope."

"Then what?" he asked, already reaching for the demon-killing knife I knew was hiding under the bed. I sniffed and shook my head.

"It won't work on me, Sam."

"Then answer the damn question, Gem." I sighed and ran my finger along the hemline of my jacket.

"Angel. My mother was an angel. I was adopted by the parents John Winchester knew. Crowley was my father and my mother was an angel by the name of Maria."

Sam just stared at me, dropping down onto the bed, his beer falling onto the bedside table, but miraculously staying upright. At least five minutes passed and Sam didn't say anything.

I walked toward the window and pulled the orange curtain back an inch, just enough to see out into the darkness. We were in Albany, New York. In a hotel somewhere along the Interstate.

The Impala was parked outside the hotel, the dark paint shining in the moonlight. It was snowing slightly, big, puffy flakes floating through the air slowly, twirling before hitting the ground. The rims of the tires shone white and I let the curtain fall back into place.

Some..._things_...had happened in the back of that car. Things that had..._altered_ Dean and I, the connection between us. Things that I didn't know if Dean knew about. Things that even _I_ didn't know the extents of. Things that could kill if we didn't 'solidify', according to Crowley. And according to Alastair down in hell. He had told Dean, but he had been so out of it that he hadn't paid attention.

I swallowed back memories of hell and Sam made a strange noise. I sat on the edge of the window as he spoke.

"So you're...half _angel_, half _demon_?"

"Yep." I drew out the word, smacking my lips together.

"But that still doesn't explain why you were in hell or why you need help."

"Lucifer got his goons to drag me down because I found out about his plan to kill me."

"You found out about his plan to kill you, so he killed you?"

"Almost. Ripped my soul out of my body, dragged my soul down to hell and handed me over to Alastair. He made Dean torture me."

"So now what?"

I shifted on the windowsill. I could feel my blood boiling under my skin. The explosion was close, I knew that for sure. It felt like gunpowder was replacing my blood, like dynamite or a hand grenade.

"That night, before the hound attack, with Dean? Something...happened that night. I don't know what and I don't know how. But it formed some kind of bond between me and Dean. I don't know what its limitations are or what it's going to do. But what I know right now is that I need his blood in my system or else..."

"Or else what, Gemma?"

"Or else, bye-bye Gemma. And bye-bye everyone around me."

Sam rubbed his face again and stood up. His hulking frame towered above me and I waited for him to shoot me or stab me or slap me or something. But the unexpected happened.

He walked across the room and knocked on the door to the bathroom. Dean's gruff voice answered with a short "what" and Sam grabbed the doorknob.

"Come out, Dean. You gotta help Gem."


	3. Chapter 3

_Who We Were_

I zipped up my jacket and shoved my hands into my pockets. Dean was refusing to open the door. Sam had knocked on the door eight or nine times.

"Sammy, he's not going to help."

"No. He will. Or I'll beat the living shit out of him."

"Sam..." I said warningly as Sam attempted to open the door.

"No, Gem. You need his blood. Why I don't know, but if it's going to save you, he's going to give it to you."

When I had told Sam the only way to save myself was to get Dean's blood running through my veins, he had looked at me like I was insane. That look was still on his face, but it wasn't directed at me so much. Dean was refusing to help, but Sam was going to do his damndest to force his brother into it. Sam groaned and slammed his fists into the door.

"Hey!" was the only word the emanated from the other side. Dean's voice was thick.

Almost like he was crying.

"God damn it, Dean!" Sam yelled, his voice bouncing off the hotel room walls.

I shook my head and walked across the room, my hand twisting around the door knob. My body was vibrating, but I squished my toes and clenched my hands into fists, forcing my body to be still; the calm before the storm.

"Sam, he's not going to help. Give it up. I'm like a friggin' time bomb. I have to go, Sam. _Now_."

"No, you aren't, Gem. Get your ass over here, _now_."

I sighed, twisting the door knob in my hand and yanked the door open. The cool air nipped at my skin and I hunched my shoulders forward, conserving my body heat. The Impala was dusted in a light blanket of snow. Snow in October, huh. A demonic omen in New York? I think not.

I walked toward it, my heels clicking against the pavement. My hand rested on the side mirror and I brushed the snow off of it, watching the white flakes float to the floor. I heard the room door slam and I turned. A tall, shadowed figure stood outside the door, the outdoor lights hiding his face. I couldn't tell which brother was coming out to try to coerce me back inside. I figured it was Sam, turned on my heel and kept clicking down the driveway.

A hand suddenly grabbed my shoulder and forced me to turn. My ankle twisted and I squeaked, almost toppling sideways. But he kept me steady, upright.

_Dean_.

I opened my mouth to say something, but he pressed his finger to my bottom lip, wiping something onto my skin. I automatically licked my lip and a coppery taste exploded in my mouth.

"Wha-" I tried to say something, but he grabbed my face and shoved his lips on mine. I was lifted onto my toes. His arms wrapped around me and his smell overtook me. That perfect mix of aftershave and _Dean_-smell. My body leaned into his and shivers ran up and down my spine.

Then, he pushed me away and I stumbled sideways. I staggered for a moment, then found my balance and my hand flew to my lips.

On one hand, my body felt light and airy, like Dean's blood was attacking the gunpowder that was lying currently dormant in my body. It was exactly as Crowley had told me. Dean Winchester's blood would save my life, keep me whole.

"Shouldn't have done that..." Dean mumbled, turning away from me and starting to walk towards the hotel again. My feet carried me quickly until I was in front of him.

"Yeah and why not?" I asked, planting my feet and crossing my arms. Dean worked his jaw a few times, staring at me, and attempted to step around me. I stuck out my arm and pushed his shoulder back. He stood a few feet from me and I ran my finger down my bottom lip. My skin came away smeared with red in the moonlight.

I licked my fingertip, keeping my eyes on Dean.

"Leave, Gemma. I told you once; do _not_ make me tell you again."

"Will you just shut up about making me leave already? If you wanted me to leave, you wouldn't have just _kissed_ me, Dean. Admit it. You don't want me to leave."

"That may be true, but you have to, Gemma. I can't face up to what happened downstairs, not yet. Not with Sam around."

"Well, then when are you going to face up to it, Dean? Because I'm not going anywhere, like it or not. And neither is Sam. So I'm here, you're here, we were both down there. Let's talk. Right here right now."

"I _can't_, Gemma. I can't."

I put my hands on my face almost like I was praying and stared up at the starry sky. Dean shoved his hands in his pockets and started walking again. I took a deep breath, grabbed his hand, and dragged him toward the Impala.

It was parked under a flickering streetlight. As we reached the car, the light buzzed out. I pulled open the back door on the driver's side and Dean looked at me, his face now lit by darkness. I glanced up at the lamp and the light bulb flickered back to life.

Dean kicked at the ground, his eyes darting to the hotel.

"Get in, Dean."

"Gemma, please. Don't do this. _Please._"

I sighed, turned him so his back was to the Impala and pressed my two fingers to the spot between his eyebrows. He collapsed, unconscious and I (somehow) managed to get him into the back seat. I leaned over and dug in his pocket for the keys. I found them, closed the door and jogged back to the hotel. Poking my head in the door, I licked my lip and glanced at Sam, who raised his eyes to meet mine from his spot on the bed.

"I'm kidnapping your brother, hope you don't mind," I said, raising my eyebrow and giving a small smile.

"Nope, not at all. You kids have fun." Sam winked and I shook my head. I pulled my head out and closed the door.

When I got back to where the Impala was parked, I opened the driver's door and slipped inside. Dean muttered as I closed the door and hit the locks. The engine revved and I pulled out of the hotel parking lot.

Oh, boy. This was going to be..._interesting..._


	4. Chapter 4

_Too Hard To Say Goodbye_

I just kept driving. I don't know why. But I just kept driving.

I couldn't bring myself to take my foot of the gas pedal. I has adjusted the rear view mirror over and over again and had a perfect view of Dean lying in the backseat.

_What are you doing, Gemma_? I asked myself.

My body shook, but not like I was about to explode. I pulled the Impala over to the side of the road, my breathing growing strained.

I shouldn't have ever come back to them. I should've just accepted my fate and died somewhere far away from Dean, from Sam. I should never have come back. I couldn't bring them into this, no matter what _he_ wanted me to do. I wouldn't do that to them.

I leaned my head against the steering wheel and took a deep breath. There was something wrong with me. There had to be. Or, I wasn't really alive; I was in a coma or something. There was no way this was real. I was dreaming.

I had to be.

I was still at the hospital, in a coma from the hell hound attack. None of this had ever happened. I was dreaming. None of this insanity could be real.

_ But it is real, sweetheart. You know that it's real. Come on, love. I haven't got all day._

I shuddered as _his_ voice entered my head. The Impala was still pulled over on the side of the road, and I heaved a sigh. Dean's green jacket lay in a ball on the passenger's side seat. I grabbed it, pulling it on. It felt like him, smelled like him.

Pulling the keys out of the ignition, I stumbled out the driver's side door, then locked the car. I peered into the back window. Dean was "sleeping". Taking a deep breath, and swallowing my pride, I started walking toward the forest on the left side of the road. My heels sunk into the somewhat damp dirt and I pushed myself forward.

_That's it, Gemma. Bring your boy to me_.

_I'm _not_ bringing him to you, you son of a bitch._

_ Aw, don't be like that love. I thought we agreed you'd call me Dad?_

_ We never agreed on that. I never agreed on that, Crowley._

His voice disappeared and I kept forcing my legs to move. It hurt, but I didn't have a choice. I pushed the branches of the trees around me out of the way and tried to keep moving.

_He doesn't love you anymore, Gemma. You know that._

_ Shut up._

_ You can't run from the truth, love. Or the past, or the present, or the future._

_ I said shut up!_

I stopped tripping through the forest and fell into the nearest tree. The rough bark scratched into my cheek and I winced. When I pulled my head away, blood was smeared over the trunk. I didn't touch my cheek, scared of getting blood on Dean's jacket. I pulled it closer to my body, trying not to cry.

But, trying to stop myself from crying is something I fail miserably at.

Tears fell down my cheeks like a faucet turned on, blurring my vision.

_Just bring me the ring and we'll figure it all out._

Crowley's words rung out through my skull and I grabbed either side of my head.

_Why'd it have to be me?_

It's a question to which I am dying to know the answer to.

When I had first found out Crowley was my father, I had run. After I had recovered from the hellhound attack, that is. I had stayed with Bobby for a few weeks. While I was with Bobby, John refused to answer the phone, or call the house. I had been dying for John to tell us where he and the boys were. But he never told me, or Bobby.

After three weeks, I gave up. I missed Dean like crazy, Sam too. So Bobby leant me an old Mustang and a few guns, and I set out on a job he didn't want. After that, I found another, and another. I had become a hunter, just like my adopted father. I was proud, because I knew he would've been.

When I was almost twenty, Crowley came back and made me an offer. He'd give me Sam and Dean's location if I went after a few demons for him. I went after the demons and got them, but refused to know where the boys were.

I couldn't handle seeing them after all those years. Especially when I was a hunter and Dean and I had gotten into that fight.

Dean hadn't wanted this kind of life for me. He didn't want me to be a hunter. He wanted me to live a normal life. So much for that. I had argued with him till I was blue in the face that being a hunter was what I wanted, I wanted a life of that, _with him_.

I had left, after finding out that I would never be normal, could never be normal.

It'd been over ten years since I had last seen Sam and Dean. In person that is. I had seen Dean down in hell, but that was a whole other story.

Then I started getting the strange feelings. That feeling like my blood was on fire, that my veins were full of flames. Where there was no putting it out. Any way to extinguish such flames I didn't know of.

I was on a job in New Jersey, hunting a spirit haunting an old house, when Crowley came to find me again. He told me that Dean's blood would save me.

But just that tiny bit of life-saving information came at a cost. And a high one at that.

Crowley wanted Dean's ring. Why, I didn't know, nor would he tell me, but I knew I'd have a hell hound on my ass and a one way ticket to hell if I didn't obey. Crowley, being Crowley, had ways, ways he wasn't afraid to use against his own daughter.

Still leaning against the tree, I glance down at my hand, where the duplicated ring shone in the moonlight.

_I don't have all day, Gemma. Neither does your lover boy. _

I pushed myself off the tree and forwards. I touched my fingertip to my scratched cheek, running my finger down the gash. It healed with a tingly feeling and I swallowed once. Taking another step forward and trying not to cry, but not bothering to wipe my tears, I brushed through two waist-high bushes and Crowley turned around to face me.

A demonically harmonious panting filled my ears and I tried not to scream.

I was surrounded by hell hounds.


	5. Chapter 5

'_The End' of Us_

I was surprised at the fact that I could _see_ the hounds. All twenty of them. Their snarling faces peered at me with soulless eyes like black pits of tar. Their thin, bony bodies were poised, ready to attack once Crowley gave the order.

I swallowed and twisted the ring around my finger. I had to get back to Dean. I had the powers of an angel, but, unfortunately, they weren't as powerful as a pureblood angel and didn't last as long. A hound, bigger than the rest, took a step towards me and the scars across my stomach twisted painfully. I grabbed my middle, doubling over.

"Ah, I thought you might remember Tiny, Gemma," Crowley said, the corner of his mouth twisting up in a small smirk.

"You wouldn't kill your own daughter," I half-whispered. Crowley chuckled, looking down at the green earth.

"Don't underestimate me, love. You are valuable to have around, Gemma. There is no doubt about that. But I have no problem putting an end to you, you little half-breed creation."

The hound snorted, blowing breath into my face that smelled of death. I retched and tried to kick my foot out. But my ankle twisted and I landed on my butt. I heard a twig snap behind me and attempted to stand.

"Call your hounds off, Crowley."

"Then give me the ring."

"Tell me what it does first."

"That little hunk of silver currently wrapped around your finger is more powerful than you could imagine, Gemma. You do not want to cross the person who knows how to use it properly."

"That person being you," I said, rolling me eyes.

"Precisely, love. That ring has the power to keep a demon safe from anything. Salt, that wonderful little knife your boy toys love so much, a devil's trap, Latin incantations, all of it. And I want it. So hand it over and maybe I won't let my pets here tear you to shreds."

I yanked the silver band off my finger and tossed it to him. He caught it with ease and my stomach ripped with agony. I cried out and strong arms wrapped around me.

_Dean_.

My scars felt like a horrible mix of ice and fire, alternating as if trying to burn and freeze me to death at the same time.

"You can't be here," I managed to say as my body slumped into his arms. His muscle twitched at my back and my body seemed to just give up. But I wasn't done.

"Ah, Dean. What a nice surprise," Crowley chuckled, patting the head of the nearest hound. "I brought some friends of yours with me. Thought you might want to see them again."

I looked up at Dean. His eyes were fixated on Crowley.

"Call off your dogs, Crowley. You have what you want. Let us go."

Crowley chuckled once and snapped his fingers.

_Don't think for a second you won't see me again, Gemma. You're still mine. Still my own personal hunter. I saved your life, love; I expect protection in return._

He turned on his heel and stomped deeper into the forest. The hounds followed him, all except Tiny. My scars screamed again and I winced. Dean looked straight at the hound.

"You too, ugly; leave my girl alone."

_My girl_; I loved the sound of just the words. The hound snorted again, walking away from the two of us and I coughed. Dean's arms tightened around me and I felt safe again. The pain eased away and I pushed myself up, still in the circle of arms. We stood like that for a minute and tears returned to my eyes again. We stepped apart, staring at each other. The moonlight shone on his face and he stared at me. I knew what he saw. His fingers reached out to touch my cheek, but I grabbed his hand before they touched my skin.

"Not here, not now," I whispered.

His green eyes were full of pain and I tried not to cry out myself.

"You left," he said quietly, not taking his eyes off me. I stared down at my now mud covered shoes and twisted my hands together.

"No, I didn't. Your dad took you and Sam away, Dean. I had no idea where you were. How was I supposed to come back?"

"You could've called me, Gemma, or at least _tried_ to find us!" He gave me a look of desperation and I scoffed.

"You don't think I tried, Dean? You don't think I tried tracking you guys? You don't think I spent days at Bobby's just trying to get a hold of you? I tried. I tried for almost three weeks, Dean. But by then, for all I knew, you and Sam and John were on the other side of the country, hell, even on the other side of the world, for all I knew. I couldn't find you, but _do not_ even think for one second that I didn't try."

I took a deep breath and just stared at him for a moment. He mashed his lips together and a single tear dropped out of his eye.

"I missed you, Gemma," he said quietly, opening his arms for me to fall into.

But I can't. Not until he faces up to what happened _down there_.

"Why were you in hell, Dean?" I asked, fiddling with my hands again. He rubbed his face with his hands, another tear travelling down his scruffy cheek.

"I had one job, Gemma. One job. I had to protect Sammy and I failed, alright? I let him get killed by some freak show. I let him _die_, Gemma. What was I supposed to do? Just let him stay dead? If he was gone, I had lost everyone. Everyone except Bobby. Dad was dead and it was my fault. You were gone and I had no clue where you were. I couldn't let Sam die too. I couldn't live with the fact that all I ever did was let down the ones I loved most. So I did what I had to do."

"Sold your soul?" I asked, "That's what you had to do?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Gemma. Why were _you_ down there? What's the daughter of a crossroads demon doing downstairs?"

"Lucifer," I said simply, bouncing my knees in an attempt to get warm.

"What about him?"

"He wants to kill me, Dean. I don't know why. I think it has something to do with you, with us, I mean."

"Us? What about us?"

"You remember that night before the hound attack, right?" Dean gave a small smile and glanced down.

"How could I forget?"

"Something happened that night, Dean. I don't know what. Crowley told me that if we didn't set whatever it is in stone, it was going to kill people. My mother was in on it too; she showed me what would happen."

"People like who?"

"People like Sam, like Bobby. People close to us."

"So how do we...solidify whatever it is?"

"We already did, Dean."

"What?"

"The blood."

Dean looked relieved and closed his eyes. I swallowed and looked away from his face. A tear fell out of my eye and my lip quivered.

"But it wasn't going to happen now, Dean. Not for a while."

"How long is a while, Gemma?" he asked, grabbing my forearm.

"Five years," I said, finally finding the strength to look at him.

"You don't mean what Zachariah showed me, do you?"

I licked my lip and lifted my hand. I pressed my index finger to the tender spot beneath Dean's ear and my memory jumped into his head.

_He was wearing a white suit. A white suit, white shoes. A single rose sat on the pedestal behind him and it's scent hit my nose like a punch in the face. Dean was lying on the ground. Dean from the future, that is. Lucifer had Sam's foot perched on his neck, at the perfect angle the snap it if he moved his foot in the right way._

_He did._

_The snap echoed in my ears and I knew it would stay there forever. I couldn't hide behind the tree any longer and I jumped forward. I fell to my knees at Dean's side. I pulled his head into my lap and touched his jaw line._

_Dean couldn't be dead. There was no way. It wouldn't end like this._

_ "No," I managed to say, leaning down and pressing my lips to his temple._

_ "I win, Gemma. I always win. No matter what you do, this will always happen. You can't stop it, neither can I. Nor can your precious little Dean."_

_ "But Crowley said-" I stared, staring at Lucifer with tear-filled eyes._

_ "Your loving demon father is misguided, Gemma. You can't save Dean. It just doesn't work that way. What could a filthy half-breed like you do to save him? What could you do to save him?"_

_ "This is only if Dean doesn't let Sam come back!" I yelled, grabbing the front of Dean's green army jacket. There was a thigh holster wrapped around his leg and a gun was still wedged into it. I gasped and yanked it out, jostling his lifeless body. I had silently prayed that it was the Colt, but I had no such luck. I stood up and pointed the gun at Lucifer. He turned towards me, the blood-red rose in hand and laughed._

_ "That's not going to do _anything_, Gemma. You can't kill the devil with a gun. Not a gun like that. One like this on the other hand," Lucifer said, laughing and twirling the Colt around his fingers. My heart fell to my stomach and my body shook. It was over._

_It was all over._

_ "That little blood bond with Dean can't save him, Gemma. When you first did it, it saved you, sure, and the people around you. But Sammy's long gone now. So is Bobby. It's all done with, Gemma. Dean is dead and you," he laughed, pointing the gun in my direction, "You're next on my list."_

_I dropped to my knees again, took Dean's dead-weight hand in mine and squeezed my eyes shut. A murky, almost-silence misted between Lucifer and me._

_A gunshot filled the silence._

I gasped and wrenched my hand back from Dean's face. My lungs didn't want to accept the oxygen I tried to breathe in and I braced myself against my knees.

"Gemma, you know that won't happen, right?"

I nodded, my breath finally returning to normal.

"That's what would've happened if you hadn't let Sam come back, Dean."

Dean took a small step towards me. I straightened and looked at him. He grabbed my face and pressed his lips on mine. When I pushed back, I was once again breathless.

"Does that memory thing work both ways?" he asked tentatively, toying with my fingers. I took his hand and pressed his finger to the soft skin under my ear.


	6. Chapter 6

_Broken Hell_

_Wherever I was, it reminded me of South Dakota. _

_Sam stood a few feet away from me. A younger version on himself. His hair was more shaggy and his body less muscular. Dean and Bobby rounded a corner and ran toward him._

_ "Dean!" he cried, happy to see his brother. A dark figure snuck up behind Sam and forced a knife into his back. Sam's back arched and his face screwed up in pain._

_ "Sammy!" Dean and I both yelled in unison. I'd never been in this type of memory before. It was like I was _part_ of it. I could talk and move around, but no one could hear me._

_Dean reached Sam and grabbed him by the collar. Sam had a strange look on his face, like his eyes weren't seeing right. Tears ran down my cheeks and I ran towards the pair. Bobby ran past me, not noticing my existence. I whirled, watching him chase the murderous boy who had just stabbed Sam._

_ "We're gonna patch you up, Sammy," Dean was saying. "It's okay. I'm gonna take care of you. Cause that's my job, right? I've got you, Sammy! I got you!"_

_But Sam's eyes slipped shut and Dean held his brother's face in his hands._

_ "No, Sam. No!" Dean yelled, and I crouched behind Sam. My tears were freefalling and I didn't wipe them away. Dean held Sam in a tight hug, holding his head up. I touched my hand to the dark spot in the middle of Sam's coat and my fingers came away bloody._

_ "No..." I whispered. But no one could hear me here. Dean shut his eyes and held Sam tighter still. I stood up and ran in the direction Bobby had. I kept running, my feet pounding against the ground until I found Bobby._

_ "Shit!" he cried, almost tossing his gun on the ground. I shut my eyes, wiping my tears away with my hands._

Dean's skin came off mine and I sucked in a breath.

"I get it now," I said, grabbing onto the buttons of his shirt to keep myself upright.

"Get what?" he asked, holding my waist, helping me stay vertical.

"Why you made that deal to get Sam back. I would've done the same, for either of you."

We stood there in silence for a while. An owl hooted and Dean took my hand in his. He tugged me forward and I let him pull me out of the forest. I tripped at least eight times, but whether it was over my own feet or a fallen tree, Dean caught me every time.

When we finally reached the Impala, Dean opened the passenger side door for me and I slipped inside. The door shut and Dean climbed into the driver's seat. I dug in my pocket, handed him the keys and he started the engine. He started driving in the direction of the hotel and my eyes felt heavy. I leaned in to him and fell into a gratifying sleep.

When I opened my eyes again, we were pulling into the hotel parking lot. Dean pulled me out of the car and swept his arm under my knees. I locked my hands around his neck and he carried me through the hotel door.

Sam was snoring gently and the TV was still on. Dean let me down and I shrugged out of his jacket. I dropped it on the table near the door and then stripped my own off. I crossed to the bathroom, kicking my heels off as I went. Dean flicked the TV off and picked up a chip bag. I turned the light in the bathroom on and stared at myself in the mirror.

There was blood on my cheek, from the branch, and the scrapes had vanished. The only evidence they were ever there was the blood smeared on my skin.

But that wasn't what Dean had been staring at in the forest.

The three jagged scars that marred my cheek from my hairline to just before my mouth were what he saw. What no one else saw. What only he could see. That mark, along with the cut through my lip, across my eyebrow, and three scars identical to the ones on my cheek along half my neck.

Dean appeared in the doorway and I spun around, slamming the door.

"Gemma," his voice said, muffled by the door. "Gemma, open the door."

"No," I said, loud enough for him to hear. Dean sighed and twisted the door handle. I hadn't locked it. Crap.

He opened the door quietly and stepped in. The door shut behind him and I flicked the tap on. It was loud enough that if Sam woke up, he wouldn't hear what we were saying.

"Gemma," Dean started, but I moved toward him and pressed my finger to his lips.

"When you were done, Alastair never actually _healed _me. He took me off the rack and threw me some place. He let me bleed out until I was _just_ alive, a fraction of a second away from death. Then he would stitch my skin back together with a burning-hot needle, searing the scars into my skin. Perks of having angel blood, I can hide them from everyone... _Except _the one who made the first cut into my skin."

"I didn't even know it was you, Gemma. To me, you were just-"

"Just another soul?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. "Do _not_ lie to me, Dean Winchester. If you owe me anything, it's at least the truth. You knew it was me, Dean. You _knew_. As soon as Alastair chained me to that rack, you knew. And then you picked up that friggin' blade, but I saw it in your eyes, Dean. You can tell me you didn't know it was me till you're blue in the face. But you _knew_, Dean. You knew and you didn't want to press that knife into me. You wanted to get me down from that rack and hold me, like I wanted to hold you."

I backed away from him until my thigh hit the edge of the bathtub. I heaved a breath and a stunned silence crept over us, engulfing our bodies. Even in that moment, I just wanted to hug him and hold him and kiss him and tell him I loved him.

But we stood on opposite ends of the bathroom, staring at each other, the only sound Sam snoring lightly from the other room and the running tap. A ridiculous sob rattled my rib cage and I pleaded at him, taking a step towards him.

"So, _please_, stop lying to me, stop lying to Sam, Dean. Tell me you remember what you did to me. Please."

Dean reached forward and rested his hand on my hip. His eyes travelled up my body and his green landed on my grey.

"I remember, Gem. I remember every torturous second of it. Every last detail. I remember it all."

"Why couldn't you have just _told _me that before? Before we had even come back to the hotel."

"Because, Gem. I thought that if I kept the truth from you, it would mean that I wouldn't have to face up to what I've done. I hurt you in ways that no man should hurt the woman he loves, Gemma. You didn't deserve it."

"Well, clearly I did, Dean. Or else I wouldn't have been _down there in the first place_!" I didn't mean to yell, but a million emotions were trying to filter themselves through my brain, and anger seemed to be taking over. I kept my eyes locked on his and tore my tank top off, revealing my stomach. The hell hound scars were puckered and silvery pink, like they were just healing again. But more scars were crisscrossed over my skin. Marks Dean had sliced into my skin, cuts Alastair had sloppily sewn back together. I turned my arms over so he could see my wrists, and the three marks that trailed from my wrist to the crease of my elbow.

"I have to live with these, Dean. Every single day I have to look at myself and see these scars that cover my body. And I have to be reminded of _you_. I should never have come back, Dean. I should never have dragged you into this mess I've created."

"Gem, don't talk like that," Dean said, trying to soothe me. He reached for my wrist and wrapped his fingers around it, but I yanked myself out of his grasp. "What mess are you talking about?"

"With Crowley, Dean. This whole mess with Crowley. It's going to end up getting us killed."

"What the hell are you talking about, Gemma?" Dean asked, trying to grab my wrist again. "There's nothing with Crowley anymore. You gave him that ring. It's done."

"It was a fake, Dean. I gave him a duplicate I made of the real one."

"Well, then where's the real one? We'll just hand it over to him and everything with be fine, right?"

"I can't exactly do that, Dean. That ring has a price to go along with it. According to a more than heavenly source, that ring has to stay in possession of the vessels at all times. Until Lucifer is either freed or murdered."

"The vessels being Sam and I," Dean said quietly, rubbing his chin. "But what's the price?"

"My life," I stated simply. "I may be a 'filthy half-breed' as Lucifer likes to call me, but I am at least a little useful. You remember that ring I gave you about a week before I left?"

"Yeah, I still have it," Dean replied, suddenly patting his pockets. I reached over and plucked his pair of jeans off the counter. I dug in the pocket, producing the ring. I handed it to Dean and he smiled. "I carved your name into it when you left."

"I know, Dean," I whisper quietly, bracing my hands against the sink. "Crowley's going to figure out eventually that the ring's a fake. And then I'll be back down to hell and I'm scared..." My words trailed off and I couldn't bring myself to finish my sentence.

"Scared of what, Gemma?"

"I'm scared he'll send you back to hell, too, Dean!" I cried, jumping into his arms. "What I saw you do down there, it wasn't _you_, Dean. I don't know who it was, but it wasn't you. I know that for sure. I can't have you being pulled into this. I can't bear the weight on my shoulders of you possibly going back to hell, Dean."

I wrapped my arms around his waist and he put his hands on either side of my face. I pressed my cheek into his jaw and inhaled his perfect smell. He pressed his lips to my temple.

"You don't have to worry about that, Gemma. You don't have to worry about me. I'm the one who should be protecting you. Not the other way around."

"Dean, I..." I was shushed by Dean's finger pressed against my lips. I couldn't stop staring at his mouth. The corner of it tugged up in a smile and he rubbed his fingers along my scalp.

"I love you, Gemma. I've loved you since the day I met you. And whatever this is we have going on between us, we are going to fight for it. Because it _matters_, Gemma. It matters. And you matter to me."

"But what about Crowley, Dean? I can't go back to hell, and neither can you. What about Sam? What would he do without either of us? You know he's different now, Dean. Don't tell me you can't see that."

"Shh, Gemma. Sam is going to be fine. I am going to be fine. And _you_," he said, leaning down and kissing my lower lip once. "Are going to be fine. We'll figure this out, Gem. I promise you."

From what I remembered, when a Winchester made a promise, he kept it.

Dean kissed me again and I leaned into him. The lights flickered and I smiled against his lips. He glanced up at the lights and I laughed.

"Blame it on...angel hormones?" I tried, a smile still splayed across my face. He leaned down and kissed me. Kissed me like he'd never kissed me before. His hand slipped into the back pocket of my jeans and I let myself fall into him.

In a word, fireworks.


	7. Chapter 7

_Losing My Faith_

I stumbled out of the bathroom and Dean laughed, grabbing me from behind, keeping me from falling flat on my face. I giggled and twisted in his arms, reaching up on tiptoe to kiss him again. Dean flopped onto the bed, pulling me down on top of him.

"Well, hi there," I said, still giggling. He pulled my face down to meet his and spoke against my lips.

"Hey."

Sam walked into the hotel room at that moment, a fast food bag in one hand, a coffee in the other. I sat up, forcing Dean with me. He laughed, pointing at Sam.

"You, my brother, have the _worst_ timing imaginable."

I laughed and grabbed his chin, kissing him.

"Don't worry, love. They'll be plenty of time for_ that_ later."

I winked and Dean kissed me again. Sam made a gagging noise that sent me into giggles again.

"You guys are gross," he said, handing me the coffee.

"Thanks, Sammy," I said, smiling up at him. Dean leaned his forehead into my shoulder and I sipped my coffee. Sam sat down in the chair, tearing into a burger.

Someone else burst through the door and Dean and I both jumped to our feet, Sam quickly following our example. The coffee fell to the floor, splattering across the floor. My head felt like it was going to explode. I grabbed the sides of my head, gasping in pain. Dean pushed me behind him and my back slammed against the wall. He stood in front of me protectively and the world swayed underneath me. I grabbed onto the waistband of his jeans for support, leaning into his shoulder blade. I managed to open my eyes through the pain and see who it was.

"Cas?" Sam cried, incredulous. "What are you doing here?"

Castiel fixed his eyes on me and held out a hand towards me. My gut felt like an accordion, and my knees buckled. I fell to the ground in a heap and Dean dropped to my side.

"Cas! Quit it! She's not here to hurt us. Stop it with the angel mojo. Please."

Dean was pleading with the angel, begging for him to stop hurting me. Even through the tears that filled my eyes and the pain radiating through my body, I had to smile.

But Castiel released me and the pain dissipated.

"I will leave the girl alone if she promises to leave."

Dean helped me to my feet, but didn't let go of me, tucking me into his side.

"Oh, c'mon. Don't do this to me, Cas," I whined, rolling my eyes.

"If you did not want me to do this to you, you should never have come back, Gemma O'Neil."

"For the last time, I'm _not_ a rouge, Castiel. I'm a half-breed. Apparently the only one seeing as you and your angel buddies keep treating me like I'm some kind of leper."

Dean stared at me, and then at Cas, and then back at me.

"What the hell are you talking about, Gemma?" Dean asked, still glancing between the two of us, a protective hand still extended in front of me. Castiel took a step forward and I tensed.

"I think you should go, Sam," he said quietly, not even glancing in Sam's direction.

"But, why-" Sam started to speak, but the angel cut him off with a snap of his fingers. Sam disappeared for a moment, the reappeared in the bathroom. He tried to walk out of the bathroom, already yelling a string of profanities at Castiel, but the door shut in his face before he crossed the threshold. He banged on the door for a good minute, but then the noise stopped. Dean turned to Cas again.

"What do you want, Cas?"

"I want the girl to leave. Now."

_ I won't leave him, Castiel. I can't. He needs me. Sam needs me._

I spoke to Castiel in his head. I couldn't have Dean listening in on what we were saying

_ You have to leave, Gemma. The angels are growing angrier by the minute. Crowley killed three of the garrison just today. If you truly are looking out for Sam and Dean's best interests, you will leave them._

_ I leave him and I can't ever come back!_

_ You have left him before..._

_ I was dragged away! If I leave, I can't come back and Zachariah will _kill_ me. What do you think that will do to Dean? His blood runs through my veins, Castiel. Killing me will kill him. Remember that._

_ You have to go, Gemma. If Zachariah finds your location, if he finds me, he will kill you and he doesn't care whether or not it will kill Dean. They can always bring him back. They won't bring you back._

_ And that is why I can't go, Castiel! I have to stay with him. We are each other's protection. You told me that. You _taught_ me how to become 'human', Cas. My mind is part demon, part angel, but my soul is human. The angels will regret killing someone as special, as rare as me._

_ You are the exception to the rule, Gemma. You need to leave._

_ I won't do it, Castiel. You still have your expectations set too high for me. You always expect too much from me. Ever since you found me, you've expected more than what I'm capable of! I can't leave Dean, Cas. I just can't. I _won't_. Crowley can come if he wants, but I will protect Sam and Dean Winchester until the day I die._

Cas squeezed his hand and I doubled over again, gasping.

_Do not force me into something I do not want to do, Gemma._

_ If you kill me, Dean will go back to hell. And I know you do not want to go back down there to get him, because it'll take too long and then Lucifer'll have him in a second. And Sam will give in because then he can save Dean. So do _not _start with things you do not want to do. Let me go._

_ Keeping Dean safe is not an issue, Gemma. You are the only thing standing in the way of him and safety. If you leave, I can keep him safe._

The pain intensified and I screamed.

"Fine!" I yelled, both inside and out. And as the word left my mouth, the pain, again, vanished.

_I told you, Gemma. When you left, I told you that this would not end well. Now you see what happens when you do not listen to the angels. I pray you do not make that same mistake again._

A new voice entered our mind combat and I jumped in Dean's arms.

_ Leave, Cas. Leave Gemma alone. I won't let her leave and I won't let you take her away from me. So just get your feathery ass out of here._

Dean spoke loudly and clearly in both our heads and I pulled back to stare at him. A single tear tumbled down his cheek and I kissed it away when it stopped on the freckle next to his lip. He shook his head and the soft, swishing noises of feathers filled my ears.


	8. Chapter 8

_Faithfully_

Cas disappeared in a flutter of feathers and Dean rapped his knuckles on the bathroom door.

"He's gone, Sam. C'mon out."

Sam didn't open the door, so I did. The shower was running and Sam's clothes were in a pile on the floor. I pulled the door shut and Dean tried to wrap his arms around me. But I pushed him away and picked my jacket up off the table.

"Don't be like that, Gem. Cas doesn't know what he's talking about. He doesn't know you."

I shot him a look and walked towards him again. I reached into his back pocket and a playful smile danced across his face, but when I held the original ring under his nose, that smile faded.

"Cas knows _exactly_ what he's talking about, Dean. This is what Crowley's after. This is what I should've given him, but I didn't. This ring is supposed to be with you and Sam, Dean. And if Crowley finds out that it's not the original ring that I gave him, he's going to come after me, Dean. That means he's going to come after you. And he's not afraid to kill you. He'll send you back downstairs and Cas won't have enough time to get you back and then Lucifer will destroy you. So, as long as I am out of the picture, you'll be fine."

"What are you trying to say, Gemma?" Dean asked, crossing his arms over his chest. I pulled my coat on and did the same thing.

"I'm leaving, Dean."

His jaw dropped and he took a step towards me, dropping his arms to his sides.

"You're not leaving, Gem. You just got here."

"Leaving means you and Sam are _safe_, Dean. And if the only price I have to pay is distancing me from you, then I'm leaving. I don't know if I can live without you, Dean. But I know I can't live with you dead."

"Gemma, don't do this. Please. Don't make me lose you again."

"I can't, Dean," I whispered, biting down on my lip so hard that the taste of blood bloomed in my mouth. I took a step forward, rubbed his scruffy chin with my hand and kissing him gently. His fingers hooked into my belt loops and kept my hips flush against his.

"Stay with me, Gem," he said, putting butterfly kisses up and down my jaw. "Don't leave me."

I whimpered, desperately wanting to stay in his arms forever, but the other side of me knew better of it. I pulled myself away from him, painful shivers racking my spine and shoved myself into a chair.

"Do you remember that night I came to visit you?" I asked, rubbing my hands on my arms to try and rid myself of the annoying shakes.

"What? When? I haven't seen you since we were sixteen, Gem. _Sixteen_. You can't leave."

"Don't interrupt!" I cried, pleading at him silently with my eyes. He gulped and nodded for me to go on. "Do you remember? It was just after you had that accident with the tazer in the water and Sam was taking you to that faith healer. You checked yourself out of the hospital and stayed in that dingy hotel with Sam. And the day before, you couldn't sleep. You remember that?"

I squinted up at him through tears that were betraying me. Dean reached down and brushed a piece of my hair away from my eyes. I leaned into his palm, savouring his touch.

"Yeah, I remember." I nod once, licking my dry lips and continuing.

"It was before Cas put those angel runes on you, so I couldn't find you. I tracked the two of you down, with a bit of help, and that night, I broke into the hotel room."

"Gem, you _broke _in?" Dean asked, rubbing his thumb across my eyebrow.

"I told the front desk I was your sister and you were in trouble. They believed me."

"Huh. Comforting."

"Not the point, love. I got in and you were lying on the couch, passed out. Your hand was lying off the edge of the couch and the ring was in your palm. I remember Sam snoring and turning over and muttering something that sounded like 'save Dean'. And I remember you waking up when I sat on the coffee table and you didn't say anything, you just looked at me. At first, it was like you were looking right through me. But then you reached out and dropped that ring in my hand and looked at me with those bright green eyes of yours and you said, 'Gemma, I'm going to die. So take care of Sammy.' And after that, all I remember was you leading me over to the bed and then I woke up the next morning in your arms."

"You did?"

"I left before you woke up, and before I did, I put the ring back in your pocket. And now here we are."

"You didn't think I was going to die?"

"I knew Sammy, Dean. I knew he wasn't going to let you die. Not after you two had just started being brothers again. I had faith."

"And so now you're just going to leave again?"

I shook my head, mashing my lips together. I forced myself up out of the chair and took Dean's hands in mine. Leaning forward, I pecked him on the cheek, letting my cheek lean against his chin. I pulled our clasped hands to my heart and took a deep breath.

"This isn't goodbye forever, Dean. Just for a little bit."

He nodded, reached into his pocket and handed me the ring.

"Dean, I can't. You heard what Cas said."

"To hell with Cas, Gem. Give it to Crowley if it'll keep you safe."

He kissed me hard on the mouth, his hand twining in my hair, and when he released me, there were tears in his eyes.

"I want you to stay, Gem. I want to hold you forever and never let go and know that you're staying. I want to hold you, but my heart knows that you're never coming back."

"I can't," was all I could manage. And before the waterworks turned on full blast, I twisted out of Dean, and his life, turned on my heel, and disappeared out of the hotel. I didn't even get past the Impala when my knees buckled and the world teetered beneath my heels. I sank into the pavement and leaned my head against the metal of the Impala. After a few deep breaths, I stood up again, my knees shaky beneath me and my head spinning.

I had to leave.

I kept my hand on the car, trailing my fingers over it. The moon shone down above me, turning my skin a pale colour. I forced myself back up and an all too familiar sound reached my ears. The huffing, puffing of...hellhounds? Wait. No. That wasn't it. Crowley was nowhere near here. That didn't make any sense. I whirled, my hair flying out from my head in a fan and my nose made contact with...Sam's chest.

"Sam!" I yelled, shrieking as my feet caught something (probably themselves) and I started falling backwards. Sam grabbed my wrist and kept me from tumbling. I opened my mouth to speak, but he pulled me to his chest in a bone-crushing hug.

"Sam... Can't... Breathe!" I managed to get out and his muscles relaxed against me.

"Get back inside, Gem," he said, looking down at me with those strange, blue-green eyes of his. I staggered backwards, but my lip quivered and I threw my arms around him. "Stay, Gemma."

"I can't," I whispered into the damp fabric of his t-shirt. He pulled me off him and held me at arm's length. I avoided his gaze and chewed my bottom lip so hard I tasted blood. When I finally found the courage to twist of his grasp, I let my hair fall like a curtain in front of my face.

"Goodbye, Sammy."

My feet somehow carried me away, but I felt Sam's hulking figure following me. I turned and grabbed his wrist as he reached for my arm. His hand curled into a loose fist.

"Let me go, Sam," I said, as calmly as I could manage. This time, Sam's bottom lip shook and I reached up with my other hand to wipe a tear from his cheek. Geez, all everyone was doing was crying. I turned again and walked towards the street, a little quicker than I had before. Again, Sam followed. I twisted around, this time to se Dean holding his brother back. Sam nailed me with a signature Sammy Winchester puppy-dog-eyes-and-pout combo. I shook my head and started walking.

"Let her go," I heard Dean say and felt his eyes on my back as mine poured tears down my cheeks.

The only thing was, I didn't know he was talking to, who he was trying to convince to let me go.

Sam.

Or himself.


	9. Chapter 9

_Giving Up_

Crowley was waiting for me at the bar a few blocks from the hotel. Just like we had arranged. I had called him, after leaving the hotel and finding my bearings, with a pay phone down the street. I had made another call, but Crowley didn't need to know about it.

He was sitting in a booth and I could hear the demonic panting of Tiny the hellhound on the other seat. I didn't dare sit down and ignored the tingling in my stomach.

Crowley slid a twenty onto the table and smiled devilishly.

"Get me a gin and tonic, love." He wasn't asking, but telling.

I reluctantly obeyed, getting a shot of the most expensive tequila for myself. When the bartender put Crowley's drink on the table, I put my hand over it, letting the ring drop into the liquid. I carried the drinks back to the table, slamming Crowley's drink in front of him.

"Easy, love," he said warningly, "Tiny here is in a bit of a mood, best not let me make the most of his temper."

"I hope you choke on it," I sneered, pushing the drink towards him and grinning evilly. I downed my shot, savouring in the way the alcohol burned my throat.

Crowley downed his drink in one gulp and...started choking. I grinned as Tiny growled behind me. I leaned forward, over the table and reached into Crowley's coat pocket, for his leather wallet which I knew would be full. As he coughed the ring into his hand, I whispered low in his ear.

"I'll be watching, Crowley. Always. Don't let your guard down for one second, because when you do, it'll be _me_ who's got hellhounds jumping down your throat."

Crowley looked at me with wide eyes and twisted the ring onto his finger. I stomped out of the bar and huffed a breath as the door shut silently behind me.

"Evening, pretty lady," a scruffy voice said, followed by the smell of cigarettes. I coughed on purpose and waved my hand in front of my face. "Is that guy in there your father? Seems kind of old, don't cha think?" I looked at him; no doubt drunk, a cigarette hanging between his lips. His eyes were an odd shade of brown, almost like dirty water. Another guy stood a few feet behind him, scratching his head and staring at the concrete, clearly embarrassed.

The guy burst out laughing at his own joke. I rolled my eyes and turned the opposite direction. I stopped at the corner, looking both ways before crossing. The Impala rolled my way and I held my breath. Dean's hand was hanging out of the window and his index and middle fingers were crossed. Whatever he was going to say, he was lying.

"I'm fine, Sam. Don't worry about me." His voice was loud enough for me to hear. What he wanted me to know was that he _wasn't_ okay, and even though Sam would worry about him, he needed someone to worry about him. Someone like me. But I wasn't going to be there to worry about him. I couldn't be. So I would just have to trust Sam to worry enough for both of us. I sighed and crossed my arms over my chest.

"I'm sorry about my friend," a voice said and l looked up into strange, turquoise eyes. "He's a little drunk, and stoned, and everything else under the sun."

"Hey, don't worry about it," I said simply, squinting in the dim light from the street lamp.

"You got a name?" he asked quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring down at the concrete again.

"Gem-" I stopped myself, the John Winchester stranger rule jumping into my head. _Use a fake name_. "Charlie. I'm Charlie."

"Pretty. I'm Royce."

I smiled and turned on my heel, starting to walk down the street, but he chased after me, just like Sam had. I whirled suddenly, catching him off guard.

"Can I help you with something?"

"Uhm, I was just wondering..."

"Wondering what?" I prompted for him to speak and he looked at his feet yet again, blushing a deep shade of crimson.

"If you had a place to stay tonight?"

"Uhm, no, actually, I don't..."

"Would you like one?"

"I would _love_ one..."

Royce's apartment was small, and a bit cramped, but it was spotless. Almost too spotless. I heaved in a breath of extremely clean air as he closed the door behind us, locking it. I walked forward and he followed me.

"Uh, is the couch alright?"

"Oh, yeah, the couch is...the couch is great..." I trailed off. It felt wrong. Being in someone else's house. My breathing hitched and I tried to swallow back a sob.

"You need to use a phone?" Royce asked and I nodded, taking the slim silver phone out of his hand. "The bathroom's that way." He pointed down the hallway and I ran, blinking back tears. Once I was out of his sight and safely tucked against the bathroom door, I dialled Dean's cell number, shaking.

"Hello?" his voice came, thick over the receiver and I let out a shaky sigh. "Gemma?"

"My name is Charlie St. Ives," I said sternly. "This is a message for Dean Winchester. From a girl named Gemma O'Neil."

"What's the message?" he asked; his voice curious and I shut my eyes.

"The message is that she lied to Sam. About why she was in hell... Lucifer never had a plan to kill her. He wanted to come convince Sam to agree to letting him in. But, thanks to Cas, he can't find you. But with her being a half breed, the Enochian doesn't affect her. Lucifer wanted her to tell him where you two were, but she refused. So he tortured him every day for the same four months that you were in the pit, right after you tortured her. She knows that it doesn't make any sense. He wanted to know where Sam was, but he knew you two would be together all the time so it was a two for one deal. But she never told Lucifer where you were. She loves you, Dean. But she knows that this is what's best. For both of you. You have made a hole in her chest, buried yourself there. And you will never leave her, not truly."

"That's it?" Dean said in a choked voice. I nodded, but then realized that he couldn't see that.

"That's it. Goodbye, Dean."

I flipped the phone shut and my body caved in on itself. I slid down the door onto my put and threw my arms around my knees. I cried until I didn't think I could cry anymore, and then started crying again. The phone dropped onto the floor, cracking open and I scrambled to put it back together with shaky hands. I slipped and bashed my head off the toilet, swearing under my breath.

I finally found my footing and stood in front of the mirror, splashing my face with cold water. I stared up at my blotchy faced reflection and jumped.

Castiel was standing right behind me.

_You have failed, Gemma._

_It's Charlie. And if I've failed, then why don't you get that demon knife from the boys and get Crowley... I can't be with them anymore. I can't protect them. You have to, Cas._

_ I will, but promise me you will not do anything reckless, Charlie._

_ Me? Reckless? You must be kidding._

Cas smiled solemnly and put his hand on my cheek. I held on to his wrist for a brief moment and then he disappeared in a quiver of feathers with one final message.

_He will not be the same without you, Gemma O'Neil._

The truth of his words stung my heart, but my head was quick to remind me that it was what was best for all of us. I stared back into the mirror. My cherry-black hair was a mess and I smoothed it down half-heartedly with my fingers. As I did, the colour changed from the black-red to a muted brown, with light blonde streaks darting through. I closed my eyes, envisioning the glasses my adopted mother had worn and when I opened my eyes, they were sitting on the sink in front of me. I pushed them onto my nose and looked at the reflection of Charlie St. Ives. I blinked slowly once and the grey colour of my eyes turned a sea green, the polar opposite of Dean's mossy eyes.

Satisfied with my alterations, I picked up the phone and opened the door. Royce was on the other side and jumped when I walked right into him. He looked down me and his colour drained, almost like he'd seen a ghost.

"Are you okay?" I asked innocently.

"Uh, yeah. I could've sworn..." He stared intently at me, his eyebrows knitting together under his flop of blonde hair. "Never mind. Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"I'd love one."

And as I handed him the phone, Gemma O'Neil slipped out from under my feet and Charlie St. Ives claimed her crown.


	10. Chapter 10

_The Present_

It was a mistake to go to a bar after I had found Royce. Especially when I had found him like _that_. But I never honestly thought that they would show up.

I had gone to work this morning like any other day, getting off at five. A few girls from the book store asked me out for a drink and I had said yes. Royce would be working late anyways, so I figured it would be better for me to be with friends, rather than cooped up in the apartment waiting for my fiancé to get home.

Yes, you heard me right, _fiancé._

I haven't heard from Dean or Sam since that night in the hotel. And that was over a year ago. Royce became _more_ than a shoulder to cry on, I guess you could say.

But back to what happened.

Would you believe that I found him strung up in our bedroom? Hanging from the ceiling fan, like something out of a horror movie?

Because that's exactly what happened.

The cops told me to get out of the house, maybe stay at a hotel for the night. I am humbly obliging, after changing out of work attire into the clothes left in a laundry hamper on the couch and dashing out the door. I took a cab to the bar, not wanting to risk having to drive home. I needed to get my mind off the fact that the man who loved me who was dead.

So, I'm sitting in a bar, nursing a bottle of vodka, my vision growing hazier by the minute. I keep glancing down at the diamond on my left hand, and wondering why in the hell I ever said yes?

I'm still in love with Dean. There, I said it. Um, thought it. But not the point. I miss him. I can't keep denying my past or eventually it's going to come back and bite me in the ass. Literally, or figuratively.

But don't think that I haven't been looking out for him. Maybe that's not the right way to put it, but I've seen everything he's been through since we split up. Probably an add-on to our whole blood exchange thing we've got going. I watched Sam jump into the pit, come back soulless, and then get his soul back. I watched Dean try to live a normal life with Lisa, and fail.

That's probably what made me give up on ever seeing him again. Ever being with him again. He looked genuinely happy with Lisa, and I couldn't watch on the sidelines, so I gave up. Not entirely, but mostly.

I sigh and pour myself another shot. The bells on the door ring and I turn to look at the newcomers.

_No freaking way._

Sam is somehow taller. His hair is longer and pushed back over his forehead. His blue green ice eyes scan the bar and he sees me, clearly what he's looking for. Dean follows behind him, still shorter than his younger brother. He looks older, almost wiser. They both do. But facing what they have, I can't say I blame them. As they approach, Dean gets a look on his face similar to Royce's when I walked out of the bathroom the first night we met, my appearance different.

They reach my spot at the bar and I down another shot, blinking back sudden tears and a year's worth of guilt that'd been building up in my chest ever since I left them.

But they don't recognize me.

At least, Sam doesn't. Dean has a strange look on his face. Almost like I look like someone he once knew, but there's no way I am who he thinks. I gulp and Sam smiles kindly. I nod to the stools on either side of me and they sit, ordering two beers for themselves. The corner of the bar digs into my stomach and my scars sting for a moment.

"Charlie St. Ives?" Sam asks, taking a pad of paper from his jacket pocket. They're both wearing suits. Dean sips his beer and shoots me a glance. I nod furiously, my alcohol buzz dimming from the fear. "I'm Detective Whalen, this is Detective Rogers. We're from the FBI." I nod again, eating up their lie like there's nothing abnormal about it.

And then it makes sense; there's something supernatural about Royce's death. It wasn't just an accident. My eyes go wide and Sam starts talking.

"We heard about your fiancé. I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Thank you. Royce was...he was a good guy... I'm just so confused I guess."

"You and me both, Charlie... I was just wondering, would it be alright if I asked you some questions about Royce? I know this must be a troubling time for you, but I just want to smooth over any details the FBI may have missed..."

"Clear the air," Dean adds, a small smile on his face as he puts his hand over mine. I find myself staring at him, his mossy green eyes staring right back my sea green ones. I start to say something, but catch myself and pour another shot.

"What do you want to know?" I ask Sam, not daring to look back at Dean. Knowing that I'll give myself away if I don't at least pretend to fall for their cop facade, I smile the smile of a grief-stricken girlfriend. Sam smiles back and glances down at his notepad, even though I know he doesn't need to, and he knows it too.

"Was Royce acting strange before he died? Acting strange? Saying things out of the ordinary?"

"Uhm, I... I'm not entirely sure. He seemed just like Royce to me... I'm not sure. He was always a little paranoid ever since the incident six months ago."

"The incident?" Dean prompts, and I stare straight ahead, refusing to so much as glance in his direction.

"It was six months ago. I was at home, watching TV. Royce called and said he was going to be a little bit late coming home. It was already eleven o'clock, but that was nothing new. He worked on Broadway, a theatre manager, and so I was used to him coming home late. Things happen, you know? Anyways, so he called me, telling me not to wait up, but I did anyways. I had been watching some crime show and felt a little paranoid myself. But then midnight rolled around and Royce wasn't home. I tried calling his cell phone and got no answer. I figured he was on the subway, so he didn't have any service. One AM came and went and there was still nothing. Then, at one thirty, I got a call from the hospital, telling me Royce's partner Jack had been fatally stabbed and Royce had been beaten up, his nose broken. So I rushed down and by the time I got there, Jack was dead."

"And what about Royce? How did he react to the whole situation?" Sam asks scribbling madly on his paper.

"He was almost catatonic. He didn't speak for a few days, refused to go to work. Jack was his best friend, they grew up together. But he got over it eventually. Jack's wife was over here a few days ago, but Royce didn't so much as speak to her. Now that I think about it, after she left, he kept pacing around the apartment, muttering under his breath. Something about how someone wasn't going to be happy that he'd let her live."

"Let who live?" Dean asks, his eyebrows knitting together. I'm looking at him again, and I have to force my eyes away, staring at the still full shot glass in my hands.

"I don't know. But he'd been drinking... It was probably nothing."

Dean and Sam share a hard look and stand up in perfect synch. I down my shot and stand up, wobbling slightly in my shoes. Dean grabs my elbow to keep me from toppling and I'm sucked into a flashback of that night. When we walked through the forest after the episode with Crowley and I kept falling over, but he caught me every time. I run my tongue over my lower lip.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

Sam clears his throat and downs his beer. Dean does the same and they start walking towards the door.

"Thank you for your time, Charlie," Sam says with a sympathetic smile. I pour myself yet another shot and gulp it back, enjoying the burn as it slides down my throat.

"Thank you, Sam," I reply. But then my hand slaps over my mouth and I swallow back giggles. Whoops.

"What did you just call him?" Dean asks, staring at me intently.

"Nothing, Dean," I say, and clamp my hand over my mouth. A single giggle escapes and Sam gives me a weird smile.

"How do you know that?" he asks, grabbing my elbow and leading me roughly over to a table in the far corner. Dean follows, making sure that no one's watching the whole episode.

"Oh, I know more than that, Sammy Winchester. Trust me on that," I slur, the alcohol finally taking its toll.

"What else do you know?" Dean demands, forcing me into a chair and sitting across from me, Sam sitting next to him.

"I know _a lot_. Mind you, I should." I reach across the table and grab Dean's right hand. He flinches, but then watches as I run my finger over the silver band on his ring finger. "I see Cas was good on his word. He's taken good care of you boys, hasn't he?" I wink and lean back in my chair, releasing Dean's hand.

"You know Cas?"

"Yep."

"How?"

"Mutual friends," I say with a smirk. I haven't seen or heard from Cas since that night either. "You haven't had any trouble with Crowley, have you?"

"Crowley? The crossroads demon?" Sam asks, raising an eyebrow. "Crowley's dead. Has been for a while now. Wait. No. You're not...?" He trails off and Dean stares at his brother. Sam mouths my name and Dean's eyes widen.

"Gemma?" Dean asks, his voice breaking and tears filling his eyes. I swallow and sigh.

"I go by a different name nowadays. Charlie St. Ives." I smile, adjusting my glasses on my nose. "It's been a while, hasn't it, boys?"

"We thought you were dead, Gem," Dean says harshly, leaning forward on the table. I stare at him intently.

"One; its Charlie. And two; if you were so concerned, it certainly didn't show."

"What do you mean?" Dean asks, sinking back into the chair.

"I've seen everything, Dean Winchester. Everything since the day I left. Sam saying yes to Lucifer and jumping into the pit, which I did _not _approve of, Sammy," I say, shooting him a glare. "I saw you try to be normal with Lisa. I saw you trying your damndest to get Sam's soul back."

"You saw me with Lisa?" Dean asks, his face dropping.

"Yep. No wonder I'd given up on ever being with you again, eh, Dean?"

He chews his lip and a stunned silence settles over us. Sam is staring off into space, clearly not believing what he's seeing. Or what he's just discovered.

I get up and walk out of the bar, crossing my arms over my chest in the chilly April air. My high-tops smack against the sidewalk and I keep walking towards home. The cops should have cleared out the apartment by now. At least, I hope they have.

When I finally get to our building, the Impala is parked at the curb. I bite my lip and walk inside, taking the elevator up to our floor. Thankfully, I'm right; the cops have cleared out Royce's body and cleaned everything up. There's a slip of paper on the kitchen table; something about the coroner's office and a funeral parlour, but I don't give it a second glance, faxing it to Jack's wife. He was Royce's sister. She'll take care of it.

Something tells me I should be feeling worse than I am. I was supposed to be in love with Royce, after all. But I can't bring myself to really cry over him. Dean's the only one I'll ever cry over, I guess.

I curl up with a cup of coffee on the couch and flick on the TV. Saving Private Ryan is playing on the History Channel, so I turn up the volume and tuck a blanket around my feet. The clock says ten fifty.

At around midnight, there's a knock at the door. I get up and Dean's on the other side of the peep hole.

"Let me in, Gemma," he says when I don't open the door.

"For the third time, it's Charlie." I reply, refusing to give in so easily. I start to walk back to the couch, and as I do, the door breaks open, the chain near the top breaking and links tinkling to the floor.

"Hi," Dean says quietly, standing in the doorway, rubbing his shoulder.

"You broke my door!" I yell, pointing at the splintered wood.

"It still works, calm down," he says, closing the door behind him as he walks inside. I raise an eyebrow as he tries to get the door to stay shut and fails, finally getting it to work by leaning against it and closing the lock.

"You're a jerk," I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I love you," he replies, brushing sawdust off his jacket sleeve. He's not dressed as a cop anymore, but rather his normal getup.

"Oh, really? That's news to me," I say scornfully, still not meeting his eyes.

"It shouldn't be. Why'd you leave me, Gem?" he asks, pained.

"It's Charlie," I mutter, staring at the floor. "I had to keep you two safe. That was all that mattered."

"Us being together didn't matter?" he asks, taking a cautious step towards me.

"I couldn't risk you getting killed or worse, Dean. And now look, someone else is dead and I know you're going to tell me that it was some crazy demon _thing _that forced him to kill himself. I just screw everything up, Dean."

"That's not true," he says, taking another step and wrapping his arms around me. I let him, his scent filling my nose.

"I never wanted to go," I sob into his jacket sleeve, sliding my arm around his waist.

"I know. I never wanted you to leave either, baby."

I soak up his smell, letting myself cry. He strokes my hair and I sniff, pulling my head off his chest. He rubs strands of my hair between his fingers and stares incredulously. My eyebrows knit together and I break out of his arms, running towards the bathroom. I stare into the mirror and Dean appears next to me.

"I'm me again," I whisper, sliding my glasses off my nose. They fall out of my hands and into the sink. My hair's that strange black cherry shade again, my eyes grey again. I look like me, like Gemma.

"I think I like this you better, Gem," Dean says, dropping his jacket onto the floor outside the bathroom and closing the door. I brace my hands against the sink and he stands behind me, his hands on my hips.

"It's Charlie," I say. "It's my real name anyways. My adopted parents named me Gemma. When I was born, Crowley and Maria named me Charlie."

"Then Charlie it is," he whispers, gathering my hair away from one side of my neck and pressing his lips into my collar bone. I tilt my head backwards, leaning against his shoulder.

"Don't ever let me leave again," I say, wrapping my hand around the back of his neck as he plants more kisses down my neck.

"Your wish is my command," he replies, twirling me around in his arms and catching me when my ankles twist. His hands slide into my back pockets and I lock my arms around my neck. I reach up on tiptoe to kiss him when I sudden bang echoes through the apartment. We both jump and Dean shoves me protectively behind him. He opens the door slowly and I pull his gun out of his waistband. Dean takes it from me and pushes the door all the way open.

Sam stands in the doorway, brushing dust off his coat.

"Sam, you broke the door!" Dean cries, winking at me. "And still with the timing, baby brother!"

"Dean, we need to get her out of here," Sam says, stepping inside. An angel in a trench coat follows him and my jaw drops.

"Cas?" I say, disbelieving.

"Now is not the time for formalities, Charlie. We need to get you somewhere safe," Cas says, walking down the hallway with my old leather jacket in his hand. I take it from him and put it on, then throw my arms around him.

"Thank you... For keeping them safe," I whisper, planting a kiss on his cheek. He blushes and backs down the hallway. Dean pinches my butt and whispers in my ear.

"I want some angel lovin'..." I giggle and Sam rolls his eyes, making a motion for us to hurry it the hell up.

"Where's the fire, Sammy?" Dean asks, picking his jacket up off the floor.

"Maria's come back. And she wants Charlie dead."

_What?_


	11. Chapter 11

_Hopeless_

The Impala is cramped, especially with four of us in it. Sam drives and Cas sits like the good little soldier he is in the passenger seat, his back straight. Dean sits behind the driver's seat and I keep tucked in his side.

"But how could she be back?" I ask Cas, who refuses to take his eyes off the road.

"I do not know, Charlie. It does not make any sense to me. I have never heard of an angel returning, with their full grace that is."

"Maybe she doesn't have her grace," I say quietly, my hand resting on Dean's thigh. "Maybe when she died, she went the other way, instead of going back up."

"Char, are you suggesting that your mother, _an angel_, went to _hell_ after she was killed?" Sam asks, his eyes not veering from the path the headlights make in front of the car. I smile at the nickname he uses. _Char_. I like it. Suits me. Dean's hand strokes my hair absentmindedly.

"I don't know, maybe. Is it even possible?" I ask, my words directed at Castiel.

"I can ask the garrison, but they might not even have an answer, Charlie. I cannot promise answers."

Silence settles over the car and Dean yawns. I twist and look up at him, my head resting in his lap.

"Are you okay?" I ask tentatively, my hand tracing the outline of his lips.

"As long as you're okay, I'm okay, Char," he replies, brushing a piece of my hair out of my eyes.

"Don't avoid the question, Dean. Answer me."

"I'm fine, Charlie. Don't worry about me. I'm just tired."

I sit up and push myself across the bench seat. I grab his coat sleeve and pull his head into my lap.

"Sleep, Dean," I say quietly, running a hand through his hair. His eyelids slip shut and he tangles his fingers in mine. Rain suddenly pounds on the hood of the Impala, making Dean jump.

"Calm down." I smile and Sam turns around to look at me. "Eyes on the road, Sammy." He gives me a hard look and I raise an eyebrow. "Exactly where are we going, Sam?"

"Bobby's. He's got that panic room, remember?"

"Vaguely," I reply, playing with a button on Dean's coat. "But why there?"

"Maria will not be able to get inside, Charlie," Cas says, his voice low, but sure. "As long as you are in there, you cannot be touched. Stop the car, Sam."

His words make me jump and I lean over to peer over Sam's shoulder.

"What in the hell?" I whisper. Sam starts to move, but I clamp my hand down on his shoulder. "Don't move, Sammy."

Dean sits up, staring at the same spot as the three of us.

"Who the hell is she?" Dean asks, looking between the three of us for an answer.

"That," Cas says simply, leaning his head to one side. "Is Maria."

I get out of the car and Dean tries to follow me, but I push him back into the Impala.

"Stay put," I say. "I'll be fine."

I close the door and Dean stares at me through the glass with eyes like green ice. I straighten the edge of my leather jacket and walk towards the front of the Impala.

She looks exactly like me, her hair even the same shade of red. She turns and sets her grey eyes on mine.

"Charlie?" she says, incredulous. "Char, honey is that you?"

"Hi...Mom?"

"It's been too long, sweetheart."

"Apparently. What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to see you, of course! I see you've got quite the entourage..." She nods towards me and I look over my shoulder.

Both Sam and Dean have gotten out of the car. Sam has a shotgun in his hand, Dean the same. Cas is still sitting solitary in the passenger seat, his eyes glued to Maria.

"Get back in the car," I say through gritted teeth. "Now, Dean."

"Oh, they're not going anywhere, Charlie," Maria says in a singsong voice. I whirl, my attention turning towards her again. She's twirling Sam's gun in her hand and my jaw drops as her grey eyes cloud with black, even the whites looking like bottomless pits. "And neither are you, honey bunch."

I try to move, but find myself rooted to the spot. I twist my neck to look over my shoulder and find Sam and Dean in the stuck in the same position I am.

"You bitch," I sneer, looking back at Maria.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth, sweetie?"

"Nope; never have, never will," I say with an overly sweet smile. Dean chuckles and I raise my eyebrow. "What now, Mommy? Just gonna leave us here?"

"Oh no. I'm going to kill your little Winchesters, Charlie. Then I'm going to melt the flesh off your bones and send you to hell, baby."

"Can I ask you a question?" I ask, glancing at my feet. While Sam and Dean are still rooted to the spot, Maria's 'magic' seems to have worn off of me.

_I can move_.

"Sure, honey. Guess a few explanations are in order."

"Alright then. Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you want me dead? What did I ever do?"

"You didn't do anything, sweetheart. Well, that's a lie, actually. You fell in love with the _wrong_ person, honey. Dean Winchester should be dead, rotting in hell where you should be, too. I almost had you, Char. _Almost_. Then your little angel buddy came along and ripped you out of my grasp. Brought you back here. Back up to your adopted human parents... Back to where Crowley ruled. For a while, that is. Now look at us."

"What does this have to do with Sam and Dean?"

"Your boys there, they sealed your fate."

"How?"

"Sam pushed Lucifer and Michael into the pit, honey. And they're not very happy. Let's just say, if I told them that I could get you, Sam, _and_ Dean back into the pit, I had a little bit of leverage..."

"Leverage?"

"They think of you, _Charlie_, as the reason Sam and Dean threw them into the cage. You're first on their take-down list, but that's pretty high up, especially when we're talking about Mikey and Lucy. Sam and Dean have the spots right after you. But hey, I'm doing you a favour, Dean," she says, talking towards Dean instead of me. "I can send you back to hell in Char's arms, rather than have Michael or Lucifer drag you down, which they inevitably will if I don't send you back now."

"You are a terrible liar, Maria. Just like Charlie," he chuckles, but I know he's right. I am a terrible liar. Look at what happened with Crowley. I glance back over my shoulder.

Cas is gone.

"Shit," I mutter. I turn my head back towards Maria and choke.

"Eyes up here, Charlie," she says, a giant smile on her face. Sam lies motionless at her feet, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. Dean stands writhing in her telepathic grasp.

"Let him go, Maria," I say through gritted teeth.

"Hmm, let me think about it, Char. _No_."

"Don't push me, bitch."

"Again with the swearing! You really have no respect for me, do you?"

"Hmm, let me think about it. _No_."

"Whoa! How the tables turn! I wouldn't be so _mean_, Charlie. You wouldn't want me to do _this_ now, would you?"

Maria curls her hand into a fist and Dean howls. Blood blooms underneath his shirt and his face scrunches in pain.

"_NO!_" I yell and race forward. Maria looks caught off guard as I tackle her to the ground, my fist wailing into her cheek. I pull at her fingers, trying to release her fist.

"It's not that easy, Char," she grunts as my hand closes around her throat. "I _fell_. I'm all demon, Char. That makes you and me _equal_. You're not half angel anymore, sweet cheeks. Half crossroads, half demonic angel. Nothing but demon in the fine print. You're just as bad as I am. Just as conniving. Just as evil. Just as manipulative. Just as horrible as me."

"Don't listen to her, Charlie!" Dean yells, his voice stained with pain. "You're not like her!"

I wipe the tears from my eyes with my free hand and my hand clenches tighter around her throat. Dean screams again and I squeeze tighter. Someone grabs the back of my coat, pulling me off of her.

"No!" I yell, fighting against the strong hand.

"I will get rid of her, Charlie. Go to Dean. I will help in a second."

Castiel's voice is calm, which calms me down a notch. He tosses me towards Dean and I land on my feet, but fall to my knees next to his struggling form.

"Char!" he cries, grabbing at my coat. His eyes slip shut and I grab onto the front of his coat.

"You keep your eyes open, Dean! You stay with me! You are _not_ going back downstairs. I won't let you! You are staying with me and Sam and Cas, alright? _So keep your eyes open_."

He obeys and I smash my lips onto his. It's the first kiss we've had in a year. His mouth parts gently under my own and he _smiles_. The wetness of his blood dissipates under my fingers and he pulls me on top of him. I lift my head and trail my hand down his face.

"You _angel_," Dean says with a smirk and I smile, kissing him again. I get to my feet and pull him up. He wraps his arms around me. Looking over my shoulder, he says; "No assistance needed, Cas. Thanks."

I turn and see Cas helping a very bewildered Sam to his feet. I look around for Maria, but find no trace of her.

"Where is she, Cas?" I ask, frantic.

"Hell. She will be back, though. We need to get you to Bobby's."

"Sir yes sir," Dean says with a smirk.


End file.
